Ghost Children
by wittyyam
Summary: After she grows tired of them, eventually all that's left is their ghosts. But that doesn't mean they didn't have lives, friends, a family that loved them before...
1. Photographs

Chapter I

With the morning sun creeping up over the tree line of the Oregon forest, that gold sunlight eventually found Coraline Jones…still deeply asleep. Of course, for a Saturday, what 11-year-old wouldn't want to be sleeping in?

"Coraline! Coraline Jones! Wake up now!" the loud, agitated voice of Mel Jones was almost enough for the blue-headed girl to wake up, if it weren't for the excessive amounts of pillow forts, movies, and popcorn Coraline had shared with Wybie the night before. Oh, it had seemed like fun, until Coraline saw the clock on her nightstand reading 2 in the morning.

"Coraline Jones! You said you wanted up early, and here it is!!" her mother warned a second time. Coraline rolled over.

_Why does she want me up on a Saturday!?_

The early, strong sunlight has crept up farther, and was now shining through Coraline's windows and directly into her face.

"Oh, fine, I'm up, I'm up!" she shouted. Despite being a rather heavy sleeper, Coraline always felt the most horrible case of grogginess in the morning, no matter how much she had slept the night before. Ripping the thin blankets of her pole-thin frame, Coraline recoiled her bare feet when they touched the cold of the dirty hardwood floor, instead of her small rug. "What the-?" Coraline started, looking around. Finally, with a very agitated and tired eye, she found her colorful rug. Cat was sleeping on it; all curled up near her nightstand with the sunlight glistening on his black, shabby fur.

"Cat! You mangy thing! Get off my rug," Coraline wailed to the animal. Cat opened a knowing blue eye, and then rolled over, his back facing the blue-haired girl. Coraline took a deep breath. If it wasn't for the fact that her mother was coming up the rickety stairs, she would've ripped the rug from beneath Cat's paws. Instead, knowing her mother's opposition to Cat and all his shedding and fleas, Coraline scooped up the ragged animal and dumped him in her closet, just as her mother came through the door.

"Coraline, don't you remember about gardening today? You told me yourself you wanted to be woken up bright and early to start planting some tulips. You're father's even agreed to do it!" her mother stated, eyeing her daughter with an annoyed look. Coraline rubbed her freezing arms, feeling annoyed herself. She vaguely remembered telling her mother that during dinner before she had snuck out her window to hang out with Wybie. Sighing, Coraline replied.

"Oh, yeah. I'll get dressed," she said. With one more glance, Mel Jones shut Coraline's door and trooped down the stairs. Coraline opened the closet door to reveal a very disgruntled and mad Cat. She picked him up and turned him opposite as she placed him on her bed so she could dress. Cat stretched as she got her shirt on, digging his overgrown claws into her fragile quilt. Coraline knit her eyebrows together.

"I'm sorry, Cat! You know you can't be in here when my mom's around!" she said. Cat understood all this, but he was always annoyed with her when she abruptly woke him from a nice dream by dumping him in her overstuffed closet. Pulling on her sneakers, Coraline opened her window for Cat, and swung her door open, jumping every other stair on her way down.

Then, Coraline noted, the mood seemed to change as soon as her feet touched the bottom step. The sunlight seemed to have gone cold, gleaming palely through the glass of the front door. It was oddly quiet, too. Usually on a Saturday morning, Coraline would hear her father whining loudly over how he had burnt his toast or his wife's coffee while she would groan. But not today, apparently. Straining her ears, Coraline tried to hear anything-_anything_-that would mean her parents were still in the kitchen.

Shrugging after hearing nothing, Coraline started to slow her pace into the kitchen, when she finally heard it. It sounded like very small, but human, like someone singing. Or perhaps humming. Turning her head around the corner, Coraline peered into the kitchen. There was her mother, still dressed in her faded purple bathrobe, her back turned to the entryway, humming while she messed with the waffle iron. Humming a very familiar tune. A tune that Coraline seemed to hear everywhere where there was silence, especially in her dreams.

Charlie Jones was nowhere in sight. Coraline started to breathe more deeply as memories and panic flooded her chest at the same time. Horrible, dark memories of button eyes, strange dolls that watched her every move, and the small door in the parlor room she refused to go into. Memories, she thought vaguely, that should've been nowhere near her mind on a bright Saturday morning.

"M-mom?" she called, remembering when she had done that in the Other World as well. Her mother turned around, revealing nothing more than a tired expression on her human, natural eyes.

"Yes, Coraline?" she asked. Coraline was breathing heavily, trying desperately to push out those memories shrouded in an almost surreal darkness.

"N-nothing," she answered shakily. Her mother nodded, but eyed her daughter with a practical eye.

"Breakfast, if you want it. I think your father's out in the garden, waiting for you," she said, just as Coraline was sitting down to a bowl of soggy cereal. Wasn't that what the-Coraline gulped-Other Mother had said to her on her second visit to her world? Shaking that thought, Coraline dug herself into her breakfast, while her _real _mother sat down beside her, sipping coffee and looking solemnly at her laptop.

After she had finished breakfast, Coraline shakily dumped her bowl into the sink, pulled on her banana yellow raincoat with the sleeves pulled up, and trooped out the front door. Ever since she had defeated the Beldam, Coraline had tried her hardest to feel happy and safe in her house. She had sneakily gotten her parents to take her to a few places like the movies or the amusement park in the next city over. Those ideas, she had reasoned, had completely blocked out the bad, stinging feeling she had experienced when the Other Mother had taken her parents.

She tried that while trying to be cheerful to the neighbors, even though Miss Spink and Miss Forcible were still trying to force feed her their taffy and Mr. Bobinsky still refused to show anyone his mice. If it weren't for the tiny bite marks on the floor and anything else wooden, Coraline would've thought that there were no mice at all, and maybe her mother was right about Mr. Bobinsky's sanity.

The morning sun, back to its bright yellow glow, was bouncing off of the building's pink painted walls and horribly old wood beams and railing. Coraline shielded her eyes, keeping her eyes down as she walked off the porch and towards the garden. As expected, when she got there, her father's lanky, awkward figure was hunched over a small flower bed. Coraline was sure Wybie was roaming the nearby woods until she came out. These thoughts comforted her, trying hard to block out the spacey lump in her throat from all the bad memories.

"Hey, dad," she called. Her father turned around, revealing smudges of mud one his face. Coraline smiled.

"Well, hey there, my twitchy witch girl," he said, patting the foam mat next to him. Coraline knelt down next to her father, taking the one tulip he offered. Already, he had done most of the bed, filling it with very colorful tulips, and a few bouquets of buds. Gingerly holding the tulip by its base of dirt, Coraline pushed the plant into its small hole, filling it up with the soil pushed out of the way.

"Has Wybie come out yet?" Coraline asked. Her father pulled himself up slightly, cracking his back and neck while he took of his gardening gloves.

"Yes, he has. But he told me he had something he wanted to show you, and ran back to his house to get it," Charlie answered.

_What could Why-was-he-born have to show me? Another slug?_

Coraline shook her head and reached for another tulip.

"Only a few more, and then we move to the next bed," Charlie stated. Coraline nodded. The sun was still glowing brightly, with not a cloud in the sky. Very unusual, Coraline thought, for Oregon. Even though it was summer, storm clouds came just as often as they did in winter. The roar of a motor bike was heard over Charlie and his daughter's soft padding of the earth, and Coraline rolled her eyes. Wybie always made a big entrance, although he often didn't know it.

Coraline looked up, wiping her hand on her open raincoat and swiping some blue strands out of her face. Wybie Lovat was standing to the left of Coraline's vision, one foot on the ground, the other still on the pedals of his rusty bike.

"Hello, Wybie," Coraline's father greeted. Wybie waved back shyly. With one hand he was holding up his bike, but the other held a medium sized brown square-thing covered in very old paper. Coraline stood up, dusting off more dirt from her knees, and crossed her arms. Wybie's eyes went big, un-mounting his bike clumsily to where his rolled up pants leg got caught on the pedal. He fell in a heap, making Coraline giggle. Wybie was a little annoying when he talked, she decided, but he was funny in his own geeky way.

"H-hello, Mr. Jones," Wybie answered as soon as he had gotten up. Coraline smirked. Coraline's father smiled and waved warmly.

"Ya' know, Coraline, why don't you and Wybie go check out whatever he's got to show you. I'll be fine on my own here." Coraline raised her eyebrows. She had hoped she could just spend the day exploring some more and helping with the garden, instead of going home.

"Ya sure, dad?" she asked, just in case. Her father nodded, waved them off, and bent over the tulips again. Wybie shakily reached for the handles of his fallen bike, picking them up, mounting and sat there waiting for Coraline. She jumped on behind him.

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As soon as they had entered Coraline's room, Wybie took off his muddy sneakers and welding helmet and threw them in the corner. Her mother detested Wybie's lack of hygiene when it came to his possessions. Cat was still sleeping on Coraline's bed where she had left him. Sitting down on the trunk at the end of the bed, Wybie started to rip open the paper on the brown parcel.

"So, what could you possibly have to show _me, _Why-were-you-born?" Coraline said, trying her hardest to lace her voice with sarcasm. Wybie frowned at her.

"Love you too, Jonesy. Gramma gave me this when I told her I was coming over last night. She was freaked out, but then gave me it and said not to open it until I got here," Wybie shrugged at his grandmother's antics. Coraline understood; Wybie believed in the Beldam after rescuing Coraline from her hand, but still thought his grandma's obsession with keeping him away from the Pink Palace was getting a little too old.

"Well, no reason we still can't open it. You never get anything from your grandma," Coraline replied. Wybie nodded, knowing his grandmother didn't like him touching her things or things from the Pink Palace. Ripping off the brown paper, Coraline and Wybie saw a rectangular photo album exposed. A very old photo album, from the look of it. Bound countless times in different shades of brown leather, the album was dusty and the small cord binding the cover was barely anything more than a thin string with the spine cracked, bent, and wrinkled.

"This is a disappointment," Coraline said. Wybie just closed his eyes and shrugged, taking the album from her hands. Tugging open the drawstring, Wybie gingerly opened the cover, a plume of dust puffing up and causing him to sneeze noisily. Coraline winced, but turned her attention to the book. On the first page were probably the oldest pictures she'd ever seen: black and white with a grainy look to them, but distinctly making out a small family. Wybie itched his nose and joined her in observation.

The family in the picture was fairly small; only four people. All were dressed in period clothing, looking like a middle class family at the turn of the century. The Pink Palace, Coraline noted, was behind them, looking much like it did presently, if not a little more up kept.

The picture looked decent, until Coraline observed the children and gave a gasp.

"What's wrong!?" Wybie jumped. Coraline shook her head and leaned in farther, not wanting to believe what she was seeing. In the picture were two children beneath their parents' feet, one a girl around her age, and a little boy, much younger than her, dressed in red trousers with tousled hair.

_She wasn't my mother, but I remember my real mommy…_

That radical thought forced Coraline to immediately throw the book against the far wall, hitting the side of her fireplace.

"Jonesy!" Wybie yelled. Running over to the book, he scooped it up gently. "This thing's old! Don't you get that from the dust and junk?" Coraline stared hard at the small leather book Wybie carried back over. That had been one of the ghost children, wasn't it? Once again, old, creepy thoughts ran up to Coraline only to smack her in the face. Of the neon colored bug-themed parlor room and the dark space behind the hall mirror where those poor children had been kept for so long without their parents.

Wybie opened the book again, taking care not to give it back to the blue-haired girl.

"What's with you? It's just a picture," Wybie said, trying to regain his posture. Coraline grunted and punched him lightly in the shoulder.

"Just a picture? Look at the boy in the first one," she commanded, pointing directly to the seemingly happy boy. Wybie studied it, but kept his frown.

"So what?" he finally decided. Coraline punched him again.

"That's one of the ghost children!" she yelled. "That's one of those poor kids that were caged in the Other World by the…Other Mother!" Looking down at some of the other pictures, Coraline saw nothing else of the ghost boy but of the previous neighbors who inhabited what was now Miss Spink and Forcible's flat. Coraline tried to take a deep breath, feeling adrenaline rushed to her legs and souring her stomach.

_First that stupid humming downstairs, and now this crap!?_

Coraline kept staring at the picture, refusing to let Wybie turn the page. She had almost become numb straining her eyes until he felt soft, lanky fur rubbing against her neck. Cat was on her shoulder, his front paws holding him there while he brushed his head against her neck with his back legs sitting on her bed. He had been so quiet…

Absentmindedly, she began rubbing his ears, and vaguely saw Wybie scratching his back.

_So, I suppose you know the past _does _repeat itself?_ Said a voice that seemed to be echoing around the room, but coming from seemingly nowhere. Coraline jumped with Wybie simultaneously, making Cat pull his front paws off her. She turned around to face the feline quickly, seeing him in his usual relaxed state, cleaning his paws.

"Did you hear something?" Coraline asked dryly. Wybie stitched his eyebrows together as his frown increased, but he slowly and shyly nodded. She turned her head back to Cat.

"Did _you _say something?" she asked fervently. Cat looked at her with lazy blue eyes, and nodded once quickly. "H-how can you talk?" she asked. Cat gave a bored expression.

_Surely by now you understand I am not like most cats, _he stated.

Coraline huffed.

"That's not an answer, you shaggy dishcloth!" Cat hissed a little.

_Insulting me won't get you anywhere. I might not tell you about that photograph._

The girl's eyes widened. She held the book up to Cat's view and pointed.

"This? You know about this?" Cat nodded. Coraline gave a frustrated grunt and threw the book down between her and Wybie. Wybie, in turn, gasped and picked it up gently again.

"A-am I really hearing the Cat?" Wybie said inaudibly and slowly. Coraline turned sharply. The book was in his lap. "I mean, I know you told me he can talk, but I thought only in that other place…" he trailed off.

"He can! Er, he should!" Coraline snapped her head back to Cat. "How can you talk, wuss puss?" Cat gazed up at her.

_The Other World isn't the only place where a cat can talk, _he said. _But that's beside the point now. I thought you wanted to hear about that picture?_

Coraline recoiled and changed the book from Wybie's hands to hers again.

"I…do," she said quietly. Cat nodded knowingly. "Well, this _is _one of the ghost children, isn't it?" Cat nodded again.

"Ghost children?" Wybie cut in. "Are you talking about those freaky ghost people behind the mirror?" Coraline snorted.

"Yeeeeeees, Wyyyyyybourn," she said flatly. Wybie crossed his arms and huffed. "So, can you tell me?" she asked the feline. Cat took a long gaze at her, his blue eyes ferociously making Coraline feel uncomfortable.

_Of course I can. You're not the only child I've seen go through that door. You're just the first I've seen come out. That boy you see is indeed one of the children who were trapped behind that door. The first, actually, if my mind isn't failing me._

"Oh, what, so now you're hundreds of years old? Rotten old flea bag," Coraline muttered. She felt horribly irritated, both with Wybie for asking stupid questions and talking, and Cat for not getting to the point she was most desperate to hear. Cat hissed even louder at her statement.

"Can't you have any compassion, Jonesy?" Wybie said, stroking Cat's back. Coraline punched him, reasoning in her mind he should be more considerate. "I'm gonna get bruises on my arm now," he said, mostly to himself.

"Then maybe _you _shouldn't be so inconsiderate, Wybourn!" Wybie gave her a confused look and opened his mouth to fire another comeback, when Cat calmly interrupted them.

_Honestly, you two fight more than one of my rivals from my youth. Anyways, whether or not you want to hear about that boy, I still have to tell you, since it is incompetent to your safety, Coraline._

Coraline knitted her eyebrows.

"Safety?" she sputtered. Cat nodded, stretching and swinging his tail slowly.

_I said that history repeats itself, and the Beldam has certainly made that clear to me, so I can only hope that you can learn from the story I'm about to tell you._

The loud voice of Cat that rang in her ears started to pester Coraline, hearing it echo in her room like they were in a giant gymnasium.

"Cool, Cat! You're gonna tell us a story?" Wybie said, breaking her thoughts. Coraline puffed out her lip and crossed her arms.

_Yes, Wybourn, I am. Coraline needs to hear this, and so do you. _

Feeling uneasy at the prospect of hearing about one of the ghost children she had set free in the Other World, Coraline tried to calm as her heart started to race. She no longer wanted to hear about the boy in the old photograph. Sighing, she decided to humor Wybie and Cat (a sudden decision Coraline didn't even think about following through on) and said,

"Alright, Cat, tell us this story of yours." Cat gave what looked like a smile and lay down. Obviously this was going to be long. Coraline groaned.

_The boy's name was Russell Hatcher, a small farm boy when I first saw him… _

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**Plz review and tell me what you think! **

**Yay, my first Coraline fanfic! (ish proud) I wanted to do this story 'cause I thought the ghost children didn't get enough screentime in the movies, and I'm sure not enough parts in the book (I haven't read it yet, so please bear with me T-T). So, why not make a fanfiction about them? I know that the ghost kids aren't named in the movie, and I bet my money they weren't in the book, so of course I had to name them. (Sorry if you don't agree with the names I picked DX) **


	2. Huck Fin Jr

**Nicktendo Squad: LOL You know I love you! XDD And you found me, too! Glad you liked it; seeeee yooooou sooooon XD Oh, and on a side note, I found you on YouTube XP**

**: I never really thought about the ghost kids either, but I thought hearing more than one story about how the Other Mother _wins _would be interesting. And, yes, I reall do want to put emphasis on how the buttons get sewn into their eyes.**

**Rock Raider: Nope, plunking that darn key into the well is NEVER enough! XD But, you'll learn more soon. All in good time. Just sit back and read the kid's stories!**

**K, we're starting on the Ghost Children's stories. This one's gonna be a long one, so you might as well kick back your feet and get comfortable. HIT THE LIGHTS!**

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Chapter II

Russell Hatcher: age 6, around 3 ½ feet tall, with beautiful blond hair and cute chubby cheeks. At least, that was what his mother had said. Russell never thought his life was very exciting; he was the child of servants in a giant pink mansion, owned by an anonymous master and mistress who never lived in the home, but hired help to keep it up. There was a small garden out to the side of the house, newly bricked with stones from the river and fresh soil that only the wealthy could afford. Off to the backyard was where the small working garden was, and this was what Russell's assignment was each day: to pick the fruits and vegetables from the crops outside.

He, personally, thought it was horribly boring and stupid for the property to have two gardens, even though the much prettier one out front was just for flowers and small trees. His older sister worked inside with his mother, while his father usually did maintenance to the house, running around here and there and sometimes helping his small son.

And this was where Russell found himself one bright afternoon: hoeing up the small patch of carrots. He felt icky and sweaty with the Oregon humidity threatening rain at any moment. Pulling another carrot from the ground, Russell threw it as best he could into the wicker basket. The year was 1875, and while almost everywhere else in the world was immigration to New York, a world that was developing more rapidly, Ashland Oregon was still as quiet and boring as Russell could remember it.

Eventually, with all the mud caking his fingernails and his achy muscles from pulling vegetables, Russell became desensitized by all feeling, and his only friends were his thoughts.

_If only there was something more exciting…!_

Just as ripped up another carrot, Russell felt a soft presence at his feet. He looked down, pushing his head through the hoop his arms had made with the carrot still grasped firmly in his hands. A shabby black cat with chewed up ears and dazzling blue eyes gazed back at him. A smile crossed his face.

"Hi, kitty cat," he said, reaching down to pet it. The cat looked wary, but leaned into the little boy's touch when he started to gingerly stroke the cat's head. Russell giggled.

"You're silly," he teased, but continued his gentle petting. This cat was the most excitement he'd seen all day. Suddenly, the cat seemed to snap his head, look around for a moment, and run into the woods. Russell fell backwards with surprise.

"Russell! You stop fooling with that cat and get back to your chores!" the angry voice of his mother made Russell automatically jump up, trying to rub out the wet soil from his trousers. The red fabric was faded and the rolled up cuffs above his dirty feet were torn and weathered. Slowly, he looked up to see his mother on the front porch. His mother had long, golden Botticelli curls that she kept back in a clip, although it was so long that the curls usually overflowed from the clip.

Rubbing her hands on her dirty apron, his mother seemed to crane her head towards the front door and then called again.

"Alright, boy! Come inside, suppers ready." With that, she walked back inside. Russell smiled a little, leaning on the hoe. He loved his mommy more than any other person in the world, even when she was mad at him. He just wished she wasn't always so mad at him. Russell dusted off his trousers a little more (his mother always flipped when he came in the house with dirt clothes) and ran to the shed to put up the hoe. There, he found his father, carving a piece of wood.

"Daddy, mommy says suppers ready," Russell said as he hooked the hoe back to the nails on the far wall. His father grunted in response. Russell ran back to the house, anticipating his mother's cooking. If anything, that was the only thing he had to look forward to during the day. Food, his time off from chores, and (he added) the little cat he found. Rubbing his feet on the cloth mat on the front door, Russell ran into the front hall, his senses assaulted with the smell of corn and freshly cooked chicken.

_Smells good, _he thought, and walked into the kitchen. There it was, a tiny feast laid out on the old dining room table while his sister washed dishes. Russell's older sister was anything but fun. She was boring and didn't like anything he did; always complaining about how she didn't have any friends or anything to do all day.

"Where's mommy?" he asked. His sister turned around. She, too, had their mother's beautiful curled hair, but she kept hers much shorter while very sharp green eyes burrowed down on her little brother.

"She's filling up water in the tub for me," she answered flatly. Russell gave a puzzled look.

"You're not eating?" he asked. She shook her head.

"I feel filthy after cleaning out the fireplace. I just want to wash and go to bed." With that, she put the last of their bland, white china in the drying wrack and walked out. Russell watched her go, but then turned his eyes on the food. He felt so hungry, and he didn't know when mommy or daddy would be in to say grace and eat with him. The sun was sinking low through the dining room windows, and the room was getting dark, with a little light from the gas lamps on the walls.

_But I'll be spanked if I don't wait…_

Russell felt his stomach gurgle. A whole, rather small chicken sat on the carving tray, already ready for consumption, while bowls of corn, green beans, and-Russell gagged-carrots situated around it. Russell wrung his hands and frowned, thinking about what to do.

_Well, maybe just a little bit._

And with that, Russell grabbed a still wet plate from the dish rack and dove into the food right as he heard furious gasping from his mother and father from the dining room entryway.

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Russell tried his best not to cry anymore. The spanking his father had given him with the bathroom paddle really stung, and left a big red welt on his bottom.

_I knew it was stupid…_

Russell gave a mute gasp as he felt tears returning. His room was dark with the absence of the sun, and a soft breeze flew through his open window. He lay on his bed in the quiet, hearing his mother and father conversing as they finished up dinner. After his parents had walked in on him eating without them, he had received a spanking and was sent to bed without supper. And he'd only gotten a few small bites of chicken to begin with. His stomach gurgled even more loudly than it had downstairs.

Russell rolled over onto his side and tried to stare out his window at the trees, black in the moonlight, blowing in the comforting wind. A sudden, mute thump rebounded on the wood floors, making Russell jump. Straining his eyes, he could make out a small figure standing on all fours on his window sill. He smiled. There was the cat again. It had been visiting him for many nights now, since the day he had gotten that new toy…

The doll! Russell looked under the window to see what had fallen. Sure enough, there was his doll-the Mini-Russell. The doll was stitched perfectly in his likeness with yellow yarn hair, red trousers, and a round face. The only thing different were the two glittering black buttons used for eyes. He had found it one day, just sitting on the front porch when he came in from chores, like it was waiting for him and only him.

He asked if his mother had made a new toy for him, she said no and that a boy shouldn't be playing with such a girlish toy like a doll, even if it looked like him. Still, that very night, he placed the doll on his window sill so he could always see it, while sometimes he'd take the doll outside with him and walk around with it like a security blanket. That very same night, the nameless black cat had visited him. The Cat visited often, usually when he was outside and at night.

Russell got up from his bed, making sure to not sit on his abused bottom, and walked over to Cat.

"Hi, pussy," he said, scratching the feline behind the ears. The Cat eyed the doll in his hand.

"Mrrrow," it hissed. Russell gave a confused look. He looked back at his doll. It stared back with its black button eyes, the small sewn smile never faltering.

"It's my doll. Do you like it?" he explained, holding it up. The Cat's hair stood on end, before it darted out the window, like the doll carried a horrible disease.

"Hmm?" Russell muttered, lost. Shrugging, Russell took the doll back with him to bed, snuggling for the night. The Cat would probably sleep with him tonight, if he left the window open. With these thoughts, Russell changed into his night clothes and climbed in his small bed, the doll right by his side.

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Russell wasn't sure what woke him at first; the window was still open, and it was very late. The Mini-Russell had fallen off the bed and was now lying on the floor, staring up at him when he leaned over. Picking up the doll, Russell couldn't hear anything else, and tried to lie down again.

Then, he heard it again. Very faint, but definitely there. Like little feet pattering on the floor. Russell looked up to his doorway. Sure enough, he could make out what looked like a tiny mouse in the pale moonlight. The mouse was watching him, pacing from one end of the door to the other, as if it couldn't find the way out again. And every time it turned towards the window, Russell could definitely see a small glint of the mouse's eyes in the light. They were dark, like the black buttons his doll's eyes were composed of.

But Russell felt sorry for the mouse, and got up gingerly so as to not squeak the bed, tiptoed over to the door, and let the mouse out. It gazed up at him one more time, but didn't move. Russell leaned back. The mouse was still staring.

"L-leave," he told it, whispering. It still stood there on oddly large rabbit-feet with its also abnormal tail swaying stiffly. Curious, Russell took one step through the threshold of his door. The mouse jumped a few more feet outside. Russell took another step. The mouse jumped to the edge of the stairway. Russell giggled. It was like a game! He took another step, and the mouse took a few more hops down the stairs.

This continued until Russell found himself in the mansion's drawing room, lit by the moonlight, and the glowing embers of a dying fire in the fireplace, casting a black and orange eerie glow around the whole room. Russell shuddered; he knew he wasn't supposed to be out of bed, especially at this time of night and with his parents angry at him, but the mouse looked cute and wanted to play. It was only when the mouse stopped at the west wall did Russell realized he had taken his doll with him.

The mouse did nothing, but pace back and forth along a small section of the wall, where a tiny, beautifully painted white door stood, a black key sticking out of the keyhole. Russell immediately saw what was going on; the mouse wanted him, for whatever reason, to go through that little door. It had even been so kind as to find the key to it, too! Russell giggled again. Pointing to the door, he turned the key as quiet as he could until he heard a soft click. There was no doorknob, so he pulled the key until the door was wide open.

But unlike his mother saying that there was nothing but bricks behind that useless door, a long, beautifully kaleidoscopic tunnel stretched long until it came to another small door at the other end. The colors that swirled and glowed in the tunnel were Russell's favorite: oranges, greens, and reds. Gripping the doll's arm tighter in his hand, Russell watched with fascinated eyes as the mouse jumped to the other door, which was open a crack, and slip through gracefully. A small gust of wind breezed through his hair.

Without thinking, he crawled through, wanting to continue his game with the mouse. The crawl through the tunnel seemed long, making his already sore muscle feel even achier. Getting to the other door, Russell pushed it open. The room it led to was dark, and crickets could be heard faintly. Russell crawled out and stood up. The mouse was no where in sight, but Russell took one look around, and his puzzled eyes grew wide. It was an exact replica of the drawing room he had just left. The only exceptions were that the fire in the fireplace was burning bright and beautiful, with gas lamps on almost every table space in the room.

"H-huh?" Russell sputtered. From the direction of the dining room, he saw a bright glowing light, and soft humming.

_But that sounds like mommy…_

Russell walked slowly to the dining room, his thoughts about finished his game with the mouse forgotten. When he got into the dining room, the humming was much louder as it reverberated off the walls of the kitchen, but that barely kept his attention as he spotted the dining table. Practically a whole feast was laid out on the mahogany wood, everything from a large, fat chicken, hot rolls, the bowls of corn, green beans, mashed potatoes, and even a few things he had never even seen or tasted before like oranges, bananas, and hazelnuts all in one basket.

His mouth was watering just from the sight of it all. The little pink glass gas wall lamps were all turned on high with the giant chandelier, all the crystal on the giant fixture replaced and looking even more beautiful than the one in the house he had just left. The wallpaper, too, looked newer and he could almost smell the fresh glue, although it was barely noticeable over the powerful aroma of the food.

_I can't take this anymore! Surely Mommy will understand if I just take a little._

But it wasn't a little. As soon as the first piece of chicken had past his lips, poor Russell began to devour the chicken, grabbing the spoons out of the bowls of the corn and mashed potatoes and eating them without a plate. Vaguely, he heard the soft humming stop, but he kept on eating.

"Hungry, aren't you?" a sugar sweet voice said behind him. It sounded like the speaker was sorry for the child, and Russell stopped in mid-bite to turn around. There, standing in the doorway between kitchen and dining room was his mother. She was dressed in her normal attire, her maid's dress with apron, but the dress seemed newer as well, with the apron cleaner. Russell stared, he couldn't help it. That definitely looked like his mother standing there, except for two, medium sized black buttons where her eyes should have been, just like his doll had.

He gasped, but didn't move. Her smile never faltered.

"No, it's perfectly alright, Russell dear, you may eat," she said. Russell pulled the chicken leg out of his mouth, chewed thickly before swallowing, and said,

"M-mommy? You put this…food out?" the strange version of his mother nodded and walked up to him.

"I made it for you, darling," she said. She put a hand on his shoulder and rubbed it lovingly. His eyes turned back to the food. It seemed like it was freshly cooked, like it was back…home when the master and mistress came home for holiday.

"But I-I thought you were mad at me," he said, feeling fresh tears well up. The woman looked hurt for a second, then shocked.

"Oh, my darling, I would never be mad at you. You know I love you!" Russell stitched his eyebrows together. He hasn't meant to insult her.

"B-but you…can't be my-my…mother," he said, brokenly. The woman's smile returned as she raised her eyebrows.

"Oh, is that it? I'm you're Other Mother, dear. And this is your other house," she explained. Russell still continued to frown.

"But people don't have buttons for eyes," he stated.

"Only…toys." The Mini-Russell was sitting patiently on another dining chair, smiling at him and waiting to be noticed. His Other Mother went to pick up the doll. Russell could've sworn he saw her pat the little plaything on the head before handing it back to Russell.

"Well, that toy's pretty special. I made that for you, too," she said. Russell stared up at her button eyes. The bone they were made from was very glossy, shining under the bright light of the room.

"You made this for me?" he couldn't believe it; this woman had made him both a huge dinner and a new toy, two things he really loved at that moment. The Other Mother nodded brightly.

"Yes. Do you like it?" Russell nodded enthusiastically. His Other Mother was much more fun, he decided.

"Well, can you go find your Other Father? I'm sure he has a present for you, too," she said. Russell puzzled over this.

"I have an Other Father, too?" The Other Mother smiled again.

"Of course, silly. He's your better father. He's out in the wood shed." Vaguely, Russell nodded in agreement. With all the food he had already shoved down, he felt strangely full and completely satisfied. He got up, holding the Mini-Russell to his chest, and walked out the kitchen door. The outside took his breath away even more than inside. Outside, the sky was beautiful, with a button-holed moon winking at him from above and millions of stars.

The mountains off in the distance were dark purple, and the trees were a gorgeous forest green. Standing on the porch, he realized the mansion had improved, as well. The porch was made of very light wood with two newly constructed rocking chairs and a toy chest pushed back to the railing. Strange gold lights glittered about the yard, and, as Russell walked down the cobble stone path, he saw that they were very large fireflies, with tiny button eyes, zipping past him. Below, he could see the garden, glowing so many vibrant colors it looked like a rainbow. He'd _have _to see it later.

The woodshed was off to the side of the house, glowing a hot pink as the mansion did. The working garden beside it, he noted, was gone, replaced with a small pond that seemed to glow a neon blue and even more fireflies and dragonflies flittered about the surface. As he came up to it, Russell noted that the door was open, the brightest of lights shining from inside. Walking in, Russell saw his father where he usually was, sitting as his workbench. But instead of carving wood, he was tinkering with the shiny gears of a clock.

"Daddy?" Russell called quietly. His Other Father turned around. He, Russell saw, had button eyes as well, their black paint glittering in the light.

"Well, hello there, son," he said, pulling him arms out for a hug. Immediately, Russell ran to his offering, not evening remembering how his father at home never even thought about hugging his young son. Breaking apart, Russell's Other Father took the clock of his bench and brought it down to Russell's eye level. Everything about it looked so pretty; all the gears were gold and the springs were silver. Closing the back, the Other Father turned it around to show the face. It was ebony, with two long silver hands and roman numerals, with an equally silver pendulum swinging below.

"Do you like it?" his Other Father asked. Russell, fascinated by how beautiful it was, nodded.

"Well, then, it's yours." He gingerly set the clock into Russell's hands, with the boy still staring at it. He looked up in shock.

"But I couldn't…!" he trailed off. The Other Father shook his head and smiled.

"Mother makes dolls, and I tinker with things. I know you like things with gears in them, so I thought this could be my present to you." Russell's eyes went big with fascination. His real father was nowhere near this generous!

"Oh, thanks!" he cried. The Other Father waved his hand.

"No problem, son. I'll keep this for you while you're out playing. I don't think everyone's done giving you their presents." Russell frowned.

"Not everyone…?" The Other Father shook his head.

"Your Other Sister has a surprise for you, too. I think she's out in the garden." He pointed in the direction of the glowing garden.

"You'd better go, son. I'll bet she's impatient to give you your gift." Russell turned back to his Other Father.

"Thanks, er, Daddy!" his Other Father seemed to beam through his button eyes at being called 'Daddy' like he was his real father. But Russell paid no mind to that and ran off in search of his Other Sister. This new world he had discovered seemed to be much more exciting and loving: parents and a sibling that gave him gifts for no reason, a lot of pretty colors, and best of all, he hoped, were no chores! The working garden was gone, so that must've meant that he was free of doing any work.

The soft rounded cobble stone path soothed his feet rather than hurt them, and he ran gleefully down to the shimmering garden. The gate was made of newly cast iron, and once he opened it, Russell was greeted with a mind blowing array of flowers. Snapdragons that tickled his bare feet, Tulips and opened and closed while their stems pulsated, and butter cups that held real cups of peanut butter. Russell was so fascinated by all these exotic flowers; he didn't notice the girl looked awfully like his real sister bending over a few daisies that changed color every few minutes.

"Oh! I'm sorry," Russell said when he bumped into her. His Other Sister grunted, but pulled herself up and gazed down at him through her button eyes.

_Why does everyone have button eyes?_

"Oh, that's fine, my cute little brother," she said in the most sweet voice Russell had ever heard escape from her lips. She only talked like that when she was daydreaming about exciting adventures she wanted to have. But, in a way, his Other Sister was much prettier. She, unlike his real sister, let her beautiful curls fall down to where they almost touched her waist, seeing that they were more golden than blond.

"Cute?" he asked. She nodded and pulled him in for a large hug.

"I could never ask for a more adorable brother than you, Russell," she said, sounding genuinely compassionate. Russell gave a squeak. Pulling him away, the girl turned back to what she was working on.

"Would you like to see _my_ surprise?" she asked. Russell smiled widely and nodded. His Other Sister led him down a few stone steps into a lower section of the garden until they came to a small patch of barren earth. Russell puzzled. The Other Sister took him by the hand and sat him down on the stone ledge while the glowing lights from the plants behind them seemed to dim, as if it was a theatre he was in.

Suddenly, two giant fountains of silver tinted water burst from the ground, and as the water touched the soil, millions upon millions of plants sprung up, until every petal and stem seemed to push forward flatly until the flowers formed a jigsaw puzzle, and soon what appeared to be a solid oil painting of his Other family, with him in the middle, all smiling and staring down at him lovingly.

It made Russell's mouth drop. The glow from behind came up again as the flowers making the picture were sucked back to the barren ground and the water stopped flowing. The Other Sister turned to him.

"Did you like it?" she asked. Russell balled up his fists.

"That was amazing! That-that was…just like magic!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air and jumping down from the wall. The picture had made him happy; this new other family of his seemed like really nice people that loved and cared about him a lot more than his real family back at home. His Other Sister smiled.

"That's good. Mother said you'd like it; and I'm an excellent gardener." She held out her soft skinned hand while Russell took it. They held hands as they walked out of the garden and up to the gate, where Russell's Other Mother and Father were waiting.

"Did you enjoy that, darling?" she asked. Russell ran out and embraced his Other Mother.

"That was wonderful, Mommy!" he said, feeling secure enough to address her like his real mother. She was definitely better, he concluded. She hugged him back.

"I'm so glad to hear it, my darling," she replied. Pulling him away, he held his hand while his Other Father took his other free hand. Russell's Other Sister walked beside the Other Mother as they walked up to the mansion. As soon as they got on the porch, the Other Mother said,

"Russell, dear, you do like it here, don't you?" Russell shook his head vigorously, his blond hair falling in his face. It was a perfectly cool night, but the water from the garden had drenched his hair a bit. Opening the door, the four of them walked inside, and the Other Mother directed him to the dining room. Russell became amazed a second time. Another amazing spread of food was on the table, only all of it was sweets. Chocolate truffles, peanut butter, a large cake, pudding, and so much more that Russell could even identify, for he never got anything made of sugar, even for holidays.

The Other Mother placed him at the head chair while his Other Sister sat at the opposite end, the Other Mother to his right and the Other Father to his left. Russell pointed to his chest.

"For me?" he inquired. His Other Mother nodded.

"I _know _you like chocolate, dear, and fruit, so eat up!" That was all Russell needed. He gobbled up the candied apples and sugared oranges and strawberries with the chocolate truffles and home made vanilla ice cream. When nothing was left but the cake, his Other Mother took it and placed it in front of him. To his astonishment, six little candles sprung up from it while very elegant lettering appeared in the frosting: WELCOME HOME, RUSSELL!

He looked up at the Other Mother.

"What does this mean?" he asked. She gave a knowing smile.

"We've been waiting a long time for you, Russell," she said. Russell's mouth was agape. Why would anyone be waiting for such a long time for just him? The feeling made him feel very buttered-up.

"Th-thank you," he sputtered. His Other Mother nodded. Getting up, she crossed the room to his chair and kissed his forehead.

"I think it's time for someone to get to bed," she said. The Other Father and Sister nodded in agreement. Russell, too, agreed, for he felt dreadfully warm, sleepy, and full at the thought of bed. "I'll tuck you in," his Other Mother said, leading him up the stairs. Picking him up, the Other Mother slid him into his much comfier feather-down bed and pulled up the much thicker, warmer quilts, kissing him again on the forehead.

"Darling, I have something to tell you," she said, sitting on a chair beside his bedside. Russell nodded, holding his doll close to him. "You could stay here forever, if you want to," she continued. "So, with that in mind, I want you to do me a little favor. I want you to go home and think about it for a day, and come back here tomorrow night." Russell crossed his eyebrows. She was sending him back home? His real home?

"Do I have to go home?" he asked. The Other Mother laughed.

"Yes, but only for one day. If you do want to stay here, maybe saying goodbye to your…_other _family would be best." Russell nodded; it was good reasoning.

"Alright," he yawned, drifting off to sleep. The last words he heard before drifting unconscious were, "I love you."

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**w00p, chapter 2! 8D **

**Some things to remember if the story got confusing: remember, the setting is the late 1800s, so that's why they're speaking weird 0-0. Let me know how the Other Mother's entrance felt to you, because while writing that part I started feeling very sentimental XD. Sorry Russell's real life wasn't put into so much emphasis, but I think I put in enough to let you know he's not real happy, although he's trying to be (he's being oppressed!). And, finally, this is NOT the ending of Huck Fin Jr.'s story. His story's so long that I had to cut it into the next chapter, so you'll see what happens to him next time! (Sorry T-T) I think I now have an obsession with dolls and sewing and crap like that, so you'll see a LOT of emphasis on how the buttons were sewn into the children's eyes, their dolls, etc. K, that's enough ranting. R&R! (P.S. the second review reply thingy up there is for . The document manager's being retarded :P)**


	3. Moving In

Cohen's Chicas: I like to think that because the door is magical, it probably, for reasons unknown, planted itself down in that room when the house was first built. At least, that's my explanation. On the subject of historical inaccuracies: Please ignore the 'mom would flip' quote. I was horribly brain dead when I was writing that. Also, I believe that because the ghost boy was so young, I believe he can get away with calling his parents that. And the only reason he uses 'Mommy' sometimes is because he did in the movie. But anyways, I know it's not a flame. I really enjoy hearing what you though of it, and your critique was much appreciated!

Archery Shootingstar Bright: I can't tell you how happy I am that you like this sooooo much. I mean, you IMs have been a big motivator for me, so thanks!

Nicktendo Squad: Aw, you shouldn't feel freaked out! Or...should you...? :P

Replied being said and done, I dedicate this chapter to everyone who enjoys this and has reviewed!

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Chapter III

By the time Russell woke, strong ribbons of sunlight were pouring through his bedroom window, and he was fully dressed in his trousers. Sitting up, he found himself to be back in his real bedroom, in his real house, with all of its ills. Russell grunted.

_I don't remember coming back here._

He wasn't sure if last night was a dream or not, but he was anxious to find out again. He looked over to see the chair where the Other Mother had sat now occupied with his doll, staring at him.

He picked it up and squeezed it.

"Please let it not be a dream," he begged the toy. Holding it by the arm, Russell walked slowly out of his room and down the stairs, trying to see if anything had changed while he had been gone for what seemed like weeks. The house was quiet and still, but filled with sunlight that reflected off the main hallway's chandelier. Russell ran to the kitchen. There, he found business as usual, with his real mother washing dishes, his real sister reading one of the library's books on the table, and his real father probably somewhere outside working.

For some reason, it made him smile more than he had in a long time. He would miss them, he told himself. But he'd be going somewhere better, where they wouldn't have to worry about him anymore. Walking up, he hugged his mother from the back. She went rigid, and then turned around to face him.

"Boy, what're you doing?" she asked, patting his head with her soapy, wet hands. Russell looked up at her with big, blue eyes.

_I suppose she'll be the one I'll miss the most…_

Russell gave her his cutest smile.

"I love you, Mama," he said. His mother's expression softened. Her son was usually very bubbly and jumpy, but he seemed uncharacteristically calm and happy today. He let go of her skirts and bounded over to his sister. Just the same, he hugged her around the shoulders. "I love you too, sister." Then, he skipped out of the room, swinging his toy back and forth. He concluded that for the rest of the day, he'd say goodbye to his family, and then he'd say goodbye to his toys and the simple flowers out in the garden.

He slammed the door on the way out, hearing his mother screech at him for abusing the old door. Hearing each floor board creak as he stepped on them, Russell jumped onto the stone wall that cut the ground level lawn off from the dug out stone path. Everything outside really was the same as when he had left it the night before. Honestly, Russell wasn't sure what he should've been expecting when he found out he'd have to come back to his own world last night.

Everything had seemed to be moved forward way too quickly, and Russell firmly wished last night hadn't gone so fast. He still wanted to get to know his Other family a little more. Surprisingly, as Russell walked around to the side of the house where the woodshed was, he found it to be empty when he stepped through the open door. Shrugging it off, Russell decided he'd find his father later; there was something he wanted to do, just as a safety precaution.

Digging in his pockets, Russell found one dirty, grubby nickel. He hoped it would be enough. Most people made wished on quarters, but his parents wouldn't even think of giving a six-year-old a quarter when there was nothing to spend it on. Looking up to a small overhanging cliff on the side of a large hill, Russell clenched his fists and started running towards it. His parents didn't want him going anywhere near the property's well-afraid he'd fall in it-but they never enforced this rule. Like they never enforced anything on him. Like love. Soon, in the blink of an eye it seemed, the little boy had made it to the well. The well was just a medium sized hole in the ground with a wooden pulley system bolted into the mud with a bucket running the rope's end.

Usually his sister would come up here for water. Uprooting the cover, Russell was stared at by the darkness. His sister made up mean stories about how countless prairie children before him had fallen into the well because of the mansion's curse and soon he'd fall in as well. Russell sat cross legged on the mud beside the well, holding his lone nickel over the opening. When he was small, his mother had shown him how making wishes should never be done aloud

So, he mouthed the words instead.

_Please, that dream has to be real. It wasn't a dream. It couldn't be a dream. I don't like it here; mommy's always tired, sister's mean, and daddy's never around. I really don't have anyone to talk to or play with, and nothing to play with either. So, if it's alright, I'd like to go live on the other side of that little door, please…_

He let go of the small currency. Pulling himself forward, he craned his neck to hear when the nickel would fall in. After a few seconds, it finally did, with a barely audible _sploosh. _Standing up, Russell dusted off the mud caked to his backside and knees, and started running back to the mansion. If this truly was to be his last day in this world, he'd try to make the best of it.

_And besides, _he thought, _I'll get to see them again! I just won't live here._

Russell was having so much fun simply running through the tall grass, he didn't notice the black smudge in a patch of frayed flowers until it let out a hiss to signal its presence. Russell looked over, feeling a small tingle. The Cat stared him down with what looked like…despise? Loathing? Knowing? As a test, Russell tried to pet the animal. It seemed just as rigid as always when he first touching it, but Russell couldn't feel the Cat relax its muscles after a few seconds of gentle petting.

"Huh? What's wrong, kitty?" he asked it. The Cat simply gazed up at him with a new expression. A sort of sad look, although the general appearance would've been crossed as fierce.

_So, you've gone through the door, have you?_ A deep voice seemingly echoed from nowhere. Russell jumped, throwing his doll back into the grass. He stared at the Cat; it looked back with a calm expression.

"E-e-excuse…me?" he finally sputtered. The Cat nodded. Russell's eyes hardened as he stared at his only friend in his gloomy world. The Cat…couldn't have spoken, right? It hadn't physically moved its jaw. Russell tried to get the Cat to speak again.

"D-do you have a name, kitty?" he asked hesitantly. Once again, the Cat replied silently, but this time he shook his head.

_I have no use for names. When playing a game, it is better to be anonymous._

Russell puzzled over this. He knew for certain he had definitely heard the Cat speak, if for only in his head, making the sound echo to where it seemingly bounced off the trees and stone walls of the house.

"What game?" he asked. The Cat shook its head once more, circling Russell twice before rubbing up against his bear ankles. Shrugging, Russell bent down to pet him.

_I've…been playing a game with the woman on the other side of the door you went through. Although, I must admit I've never known there was a key to that door, since I myself never fancied using it to get in._

"You've been there, too?" Russell asked. "Isn't it wonderful? My Other Mother is the nicest lady! She made me a big dinner, you know." The small boy was bursting with pride; he knew going back to the Other Mansion at nightfall would be the better choice. The Cat eyed him warily.

_Wonderful? My dear boy, I may not have been in the Other World when you were, but I'm sure even a youth like yourself can understand how gruesome it is there. And incredibly tiny, too._

Russell frowned. Tiny? Gruesome? The Other Mansion was amazing! Remembering his doll, Russell ran back into the grass to retrieve it, and came back to his friend, sitting cross legged in the dirt.

"What do you mean? The Other Mansion is amazing! The Other Mother is the most wonderful person I've ever met! And my Other Father and Sister, too! Everyone loves me there!" The Cat stood up, bristling his fur and staring at the boy.

_I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about. And what do you mean, Other _Father _and _Sister? _There's no one there other than that beldam. _Cat replied.

Russell furrowed his brow even further. It was as if the Cat was talking about something completely different. Russell raised a hand to pet Cat again, when he heard his mother's voice ringing through the property, calling him in for lunch.

"Sorry, kitty. Mommy's calling." Patting the Cat on the head, Russell ran off towards the house, jumping through the garden and up to the porch.

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The afternoon had gone by much too quickly, considering how horribly boring it was doing nothing other than working.

_At least that's all over now, _Russell thought happily. He munched at his dinner thoughtfully, trying to make the best of the small portions of food. His whole family was together, and that was what he needed the most at that moment. Just to sit there and enjoy his final moments with them, for what he was sure a long time.

"Mommy, Daddy, sister," he finally declared. All three non-button eyed people stared up at him: his mother's green eyes and his father's and sister's icy blue. The last real eyes he'd ever see.

"Yes?" his father asked. Russell put down his dirty spoon on a napkin and cupped his hands around the Mini-Russell hidden in his lap.

"I want to say goodbye," he said clearly. It echoed for a second in the dismal dining room. His sister stared at him incredulously. Russell felt like the sentence needed adding onto. "I don't know if you know this, Mama, but I'm going to go live with my Other Mother tonight." He tried to smile. Maybe it wouldn't be so hard to say goodbye, he thought happily. Abruptly, his parents started laughing, while his elder sister only grumbled about what an 'active-imagination' her little brother had.

"Other Mother?" his father asked between chokes of laughter. Russell felt distraught. Here he was, trying to give the best goodbye he could, and his parents thought it was a silly child's joke! Anger bubbled up to his face, turning his cheeks red.

"But it's the truth!" he cried. His mother coughed and laid her fork down.

"Young man," she started. "That was very amusing, Russell, but please don't carry on so. These stories you make up are too wild at times." With that statement, Russell felt hot tears trying to break through his eyes. His mother-his _real _mother-didn't believe him anymore than his father did, but she was accusing him of lying. How could he lie about something like that?! Abruptly, Russell got up, clutching his doll to his chest, and ran from the dining room, his mother's stern voice still ringing in his head.

His father started shouting at him, but Russell ignored it. So much for a happy goodbye. Jumping up to his room, Russell closed the door as silently as possible while he leaned up against it. He started crying into the wood paneling, feeling rather sick and disgruntled. What had just happened? Did his parents really say those things to him? Turning around, Russell promptly jumped on his bed, not caring for the squeaking protests, and buried his head into the dirty pillow.

The sun had disappeared overnight, and there was nothing but cold gray light shining through his window. Hopefully the last gray sunset he'd ever see. Rubbing his reddened nose, Russell heard a small meow coming from the foot of his bed. He looked up to see the Cat, as he had expected, staring at him.

_Did your goodbye not go as expected? _He asked.

Russell shook his head, curling up in a ball and clutching his doll.

"No," he choked. "Mommy and Daddy don't care. They thought it was all a joke. Sister didn't care, either. None of them do." He wailed. Cat rubbed up against him comfortingly.

_You must understand, Russell that your mother and father don't understand. They really don't know what you're talking about. Even if you have been talking about it all day._

Russell shook his head.

"That shouldn't matter! They should care a lot more if they really loved me!" Cat gave him a hard glare.

_Don't be so selfish. Your parents care a great deal for you. They're just very busy with the work here, just like you are. Give them another chance._

Russell shook his head. The light outside was growing much softer and whiter. Almost sunset, and with it, his family's retirement to their beds. Russell shivered, pulling one of his arms under the pillow for some warmth and support for his head. His fingers felt something cold and hard, like metal. Feeling it over, the small boy pulled it out, finding it to be the button-shaped key that led to the Other Mansion.

Time to go. Russell got up, heading to his door. Cat jumped off his bed as well.

_What are you doing?_

He looked back. The Cat looked genuinely frightened now, staring at him with widened eyes.

"I'm going back. That other place is where they really love me. Not here. I…can't stay here, kitty," he replied. The Cat looked shell shocked. Russell didn't bother to stand there to wait for a reply; opening the door, he took two jumps out into the hall, closing the door on his way out as a sign of closure.

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"How could you just let him go?!" Coraline yelled. As the Cat had been telling his story, she had become angrier by the minute. The feline clearly knew what the little ghost boy was getting himself into by deciding to stay in the Other World, yet he still stood there and watched him leave. The Cat gave Coraline a hard stare.

_In my defense, _he chortled, _I did try to go after him. But by then it was too late: the door had locked itself with the key in the keyhole when I got into the parlor room._

This did nothing to calm Coraline's anger.

"So what? You could've done more, like threaten him to stay or something," she said. Wybie, still sitting beside her, ringing his hands together nervously and cracking his sore neck. He never liked his friend's anger, especially if it was directed at him, and started to clam up when she got like that. It was all he could do.

_Well, that was the first time I had ever seen anyone else besides myself to go through that door. Whenever _I _entered, it was always just a distorted version of this house, with the Beldam either waiting to greet me in the parlor, or never anywhere in the house. I didn't know she could create things then; only exist in what was her world. But then I got in a day later. _

Wybie's eyebrows stitched together.

"Why didn't you go in another way that night?" he asked. Cat wiggled his ears a bit and stretched.

_I can't get into the Other World through my usual routes at night, for some reason. Only the little door, and only if I'm with a human. Coraline, _The Cat said, looking stern suddenly. _Would you like to know how buttons are sewn into human eyes?_

Coraline sucked in a short breathe. She knew instantly that _that _what definitely _not _something she wanted to know. Anything about. Period. But in the end, it was Wybie that unfortunately saved the day.

"Oh, buttons?" he asked, intrigued. After showing his enthusiasm, he remembered Coraline, and how she hated even the word buttons and turned back to her with a dopey smile. He chuckled nervously.

"W-well, I know you don't like it…but…I wanna know!" he finally spat out. Coraline wanted to slug him a good one, but she kept her fists down. The Cat looked oddly sly, but gave an approving look with his icy eyes.

_Alright. Well, when I finally got into the Other World, Russell still had his human eyes…_

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Russell hiccupped, his stomach full of another hard-to-imagine dinner cooked by his Other Mother upon his return. Even though he had left his old house and family at sunset, here, a large full moon was winking down at him from his bedroom window as he lay on his bed already. The Mini-Russell sat on his chest, staring at him with that same stitched smile. But to Russell, who had been staring at the doll for so long, it seemed now as if the toy's button eyes were smiling, too.

_You get to stay home with me!_

Russell smiled, too. After dinner, the Other Mother had told him she had a special gift for him; a "welcome home" gift for him after he got some rest in his new room. So there the little boy lay, thinking about nothing in particular, when he heard a faint scratch on the window. He looked up. There was another and another, like the claws of some animal. Over by his window, Russell could just make out a small, cat-shaped figure with one appendage pawing the brightly painted woodwork of his window frame. He smiled. So the Cat had come to say hello.

Russell got up from the bed and scampered over to the window, letting the Cat inside. He shook his dusty black coat like it had been raining and sat daintily on the sill, staring at Russell. The little boy started to feel awkward, staring back into those unwavering eyes.

"Yes?" he finally asked it. The Cat jumped down from the sill, smoothly walked over to Russell's non-squeaky bed, and dragged his doll off it. Bringing it over to him, the Cat laid it at his feet, and said,

"This is how she knew, you know," It said in the same deep voice Russell had heard in his mind earlier that day. He jumped a little, but didn't show any emotion otherwise.

"Knew what?" Russell asked.

"Knew how to lull you into a false sense of security. To entice you into staying here. She knew it all. She gave you this doll." Russell nodded.

"I know. She said so herself. See, that's one of the great things about this place, kitty. My Other Mother here makes me toys, my Other Father gives me shiny gifts, and my Other Sister actually wants to spend time with me!" Russell felt so overjoyed while he poured out his new life to the Cat. But it stared up at him lazily.

"Oh, you do, do you? Well, did you ever take a closer look at this doll?" The Cat batted at the Mini-Russell with his paw. "Very realistic, I might say. Looks very much like you, as well. Well, except for this," the Cat turned the doll onto its back. The button eyes were dull after so much attention from Russell. He picked up the doll and rolled it over in his hand a few times. Up close, he could see the tiny little stitches keeping the doll's mouth, arms, and legs together. The yellow yarn hair was a little bit limp from excessive amounts of play, and the red trousers were starting to fray with a ting of mud here and there.

The material was rough, but Russell still liked to cuddle it.

"So?" he asked the Cat. The Cat shook his head distastefully and said,

"It could be very easy for you to look _exactly _like your doll, if you want to." Russell's eyebrows knit together. The Cat often spoke in riddles, he decided. Something he didn't like at all, he thought as well.

"But I already do look like my doll," he tried to explain, holding it up so the Cat could see. The feline in questions started washing itself.

"I can see the resemblance. Except for the eyes. Buttons? I suppose that's normal for a doll. But why? If that doll is so magnificently handcrafted, why not use glass eyes instead of buttons? Why do you think?" he asked. Russell knew it was another puzzle, but he didn't feel like trying to solve it. So, he tried shrugging it off.

"Who cares? I like the buttons. I've seen that one doll my sister back at home has, and its glass eyes are creepy," he replied. It was true. As a gift from the owner of the mansion, his sister had received a china doll for her birthday, glass eyes and all. The Cat, however, did not seem amused. Finally, it stood up from its haunches.

"Suit yourself. If you like buttons so much, I'm sure you'll enjoy the surprise that woman has downstairs for you," it replied. With that, it sprung out the open window, darting down the roof. Russell leaned his head out the window, watching its faint black pattern run off into the garden. Then, the sound of his Other Mother's sweet voice could be heard, muffled from downstairs.

"Russell, my sweet," she called. "Your surprise is ready!" Not wanting to keep his new mother waiting, the boy swung the door open, racing down the stairs until he came to a halt at the dining room table. The Other Sister and Father were sitting there, and the Other Mother held a little package in her arms as she stood next to the seat Russell was meant to sit in. He sat down in time with the Other Mother.

"Now Russell," she began. "You _do _like it here, don't you?" she asked in her sweetest tone. Russell, in spite of the seemingly good mood, felt suddenly uncomfortable. Slowly, reluctantly, he nodded. "Good." The Other Mother smiled.

"Because you like it here so much, of course you can stay here. We _want _you to stay here." Russell kept nodding. The package in the Other Mother's hands was hidden from his view, but it was small, he concluded.

"And so," the Other Father piped up, "there's one little service we need you to do for us first!" Russell didn't feel very shocked at what the Other Father had said. Well, he had said little. The Other Mother nodded in agreement. Walking towards him, she placed the package in front of Russell's view. It was wrapped as a present, with a white velvet bow on the top and red and blue pin-stripes as the paper. Feeling even more so uncomfortable, Russell gulped.

"Wh-what is it?" he finally spat out. His Other Mother gave a knowing smile, revealing nothing.

"This is two things," the Other Mother said. "It is both your surprise and the tiny little service we'd like you to make. You see, here, I'd never make you do anything you didn't want to do." It didn't help the atmosphere. Russell felt more uncomfortable by the minute.

"May I open it?" he asked. All three button-eyed people at the table nodded, seemingly trying to suppress their enthusiasm. Taking the deepest breath he could manage, Russell lifted the top lid, his expression on of pure shock at what was inside. A spool of fine, silk black thread, a silver sewing needle with a golden eye, and-Russell's gasped-two black buttons, gleaming merrily in the dining room light laid on a pillow of orange satin. He knew exactly at that moment what the Cat's riddle meant. The Other Mother expected him to _truly _become her little boy by making him look exactly like her!

Russell started to shake, the box's lid falling from his grasp. He looked at the three people one at a time, seeing nothing but content smiles on their faces. His Other Mother looked intrigued at his reaction.

"I hope you don't mind," she said. "But this _is _the only way for you to stay here. Besides, I promise on my good right arm it won't hurt a bit!" she seemed extremely cheerful as she promised a "pain-free" operation. Russell picked up the needle, getting ready to experimentally prick his finger, when the Other Mother took the needle away and placed it back in the box. She waved a hand dismissively.

"Now, now, my darling," she cooed. "There's no reason to distrust my words. Everything I say is absolutely the truth. But I really do need your answer now." Her fingernails drummed on the table, muted slightly by the tablecloth. Russell felt his legs go numb.

"R-r-right now?" he asked timidly. The Other Mother brightened and nodded. Russell felt slightly bad for doubting. But, then again, it _was _a needle and he knew needles were no laughing matter; they hurt horribly if you poked yourself with one. Still, he trusted his Other Mother, as a child should with their mothers, and nodded, glumly and silently. As soon as his head had come down on the second nod, all three members of his new family jumped from their seats, each running over to him to give him a hug. The Other Mother hugged him last, and possibly the hardest.

"Oh, my dearest little boy," she said in the most proud, loving voice. "You made the right decision. Things will be so much better from here on out!" Pulling up, the Other Mother also added, "Your better father and I accept your decision, my son." And with that, the Other Sister pulled him from his seat, and led him into the parlor. The parlor, Russell decided, didn't look as parallel as it had to his own parlor back at his old home. The painting above the mantel was gone, replaced with another painting of the entire Other family, Russell centered again.

Only this time, Russell's baby blue eyes were replaced with two large, black buttons.

_So that's what I'll…look like?_

Other than the painting, the walls were painted dull greens and blues, with the faint pattern of…spider webs? Russell shuddered. The furniture, too, had changed from the dark oak wood to shapes that resembled insects. Insects with button eyes. The Other Sister patted the centipede couch next to where she sat. Russell frowned, preferring to sit in an orange bug chair. The Other Father sat next to the Other Sister instead, while the Other Mother took her seat on the armrest of Russell's chair.

Holding the button box, his Other Mother reached down gently, taking Russell's chin in her head and lifting his face up to hers.

"Stay still, darling," she commanded, reaching in the box for one of the buttons. In spite of himself, Russell started to quake. Not the jittery shaking he had experienced in the dining room. No, this was full-blown _fear. _Soon, he felt his teeth chattering, trying hard not to let a scream loose when the Other Mother gently set one button over his left eye, shading half his world in darkness. All three button-eyed people were uncomfortably quiet, giving Russell the chills. But the odd thing about his covered eye, he thought, was that he couldn't even see the light through the four little holes where the needle was meant to go through.

Suddenly, the boy felt something cold and hard poke him gently through one of the holes. To his horror, it _did _hurt, and it felt none uncanny to the sharp twinges he felt when he sat on his legs and they feel asleep. But soon, that pain was gone, and Russell could feel distinctly the friction of the thread moving through his skin. The sharp pain wasn't enough to make Russell scream, but he did whimper, while he felt the twinges routinely coming from different spots.

_Make it stop, make it stop. Somebody, please…_

All too soon again, he could feel the Other Mother tying a tiny knot in the thread to make sure the button held on. He was still shrouded in darkness.

"I-I still can't see!" he said, starting to panic. He had kept his other eye closed, and still shut it tightly. He didn't want to see the faces of the Other Father and Sister.

"Don't worry," the Other Mother said. "Just give me one more second, and your vision will be restored." Russell could hear the sliding of metal on metal, and knew the Other Mother had a pair of scissors in her hand. Then, the tugging of the thread.

But when that thread was cut, Russell's vision immediately came back into focus, like someone had swiped a black blanket over his vision. The Other Mother, smiling down on him, and the Other Father and Sister, smiling like statues.

"Now the other one," said the Other Mother, turning Russell's face to his other eye. Russell didn't bother with trying to focus on what his Other Mother was doing. Instead, he inspected his new eye. The button was made of finely polished bone, blackened with paint, and smooth to his touch. He tugged on it experimentally. It didn't move.

"Oh, don't fuss over it, love," the Other Mother said, not bothering to look up from her work. As the Other Mother worked to sew his other button eye on, Russell felt…odd. It seemed as if his real eye underneath the button was somehow fusing with the back of the button, allowing his sight to go unscathed. Russell couldn't explain it, but it didn't hurt, nor did he feel anything.

The Other Mother picked up the brass scissors again, snipping the black thread on his other eye. The now button-eyed Russell shook his head, experimenting. He hung his head low, shaking it, and trying to close his eyes. Surprisingly, his eyelids could wrap over his buttons, allowing for the same darkness as he would see with real eyes. He looked up. His Other family stood all around him, waiting.

"…I'm tired, Mama," he bothered to say. It was the only way to get him out of these horrid stares. Although, he admitted, he probably stared straight back at them with the same expressionless eyes. His Other Mother jumped up without a word, picking Russell up and cradling him like a baby. She made for the stairs, to his other bedroom.

Despite himself, Russell did fall asleep fairly quickly after being tucked in most lovingly by his Other parents. But it was an uneasy sleep, thwarted by strange, blank nightmares and uneasy waking patterns, as the moonlight through his bedroom started to grow faint and then disappear as the moon shifted to the other side of the house. Left in total darkness at this point, the poor boy drifted back to consciousness, only to find a small ache in the back of his eyes.

The thread holding the buttons was still there strongly, but the holes that the thread had threaded through aches individually; almost too much for Russell to bear. He held his hands over his eyes, trying to push back on them and stop the pain. Faintly, in his pained ears, he heard the dull thumping by the window, and almost inaudible pitter-pattering of cat feet. Too pained to greet the Cat, Russell rolled over in his bed, groaning when he felt the pain intensify.

"So, I see you've obviously become your doll's twin," said the Cat in his cool voice. Russell grunted in response. The Cat meowed, trying to get his attention after receiving no answer. But Russell did nothing. Soon, the Cat jumped on the bed, rubbing up against Russell's back and meowing more loudly.

"I hear you!" Russell groaned through clenched teeth. "But you'll wake Mama and Papa if you don't-don't…" he trailed off. It was too much a hassle to try to speak. Russell couldn't really explain what type of pain it was; just a dull but powerful ache in the back of his eyes, accented by a sharp twinge here and there. As it started to intensify, Russell moaned and started to writhe; he couldn't help it. The Cat gave a startled cry as it was thrown off the bed and landed on the hard floorboards. Eventually, in a time lapse that Russell was too busy to notice, the pain had stopped throbbing in and out of his skull and had just blended together, forming one huge, constant spiking pain. It was tempting to scream, and Russell did with vigor. The Cat scuttled away as soon as footsteps sounded, oddly in seconds.

The door opened, revealing the Other Mother, still dressed in what she was wearing when Russell arrived, and looking like she had been awake all night. She smiled knowingly, walking calmly over to a crying Russell, picking him up like a baby, and carrying him out all in one fluid motion. The Cat watched his enemy from the safety of the closet, sensing foul play. Eventually, he darted out of the room and down the stairs to where he thought the Other Mother might've taken Russell.

* * *

**Oh my word, I am so sorry this chapter is horribly overdue. DDDDX**

**But at least I finally got it up here! Heh...right? Anyways, just to let everyone know, I really hate it when people just leave a 'this is so awesome keep going! ajsdjfljeiruorighjerLk4354:lj553437j::!!!dfkjru!!1' type of review. Sorry, but I just do. If you want to leave a review, something with a little more depth and what you really thought of the chapter would be appreciated. And that doesn't take much thought. Honestly. But anyways, enough of my ranting. (Could you really call that ranting?) On a funny side note, ya know the option we have now to turn the screen black or leave it white? I really enjoy reading creepy fics like stuff from the_ Coraline _archive with that on. So, that's just a suggestion. K, enough talk.**


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